


Banned in Boston

by jesstintimberlake



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types, Carmilla - J. Sheridan Le Fanu
Genre: Explicit Language, F/F, Other, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:46:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9891194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesstintimberlake/pseuds/jesstintimberlake
Summary: A city just beginning to claw its way out of an immense economic depression was a place for two kinds of delinquents: entrepreneurs and thieves. More often than not these two breeds overlapped one another, but which side you were really on completely depended on whether you wanted your whiskey served to you in a glass or if you wanted to sip it straight from the bottle. If money, power, and fear were measured in booze Carmilla Karnstein drank every bottle in all of Boston and nearly half the damn country dry.





	1. 1934

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, friends! This is my fanfic for the Carmilla fandom. It's actually a rewrite of an old fic for another fandom that I never got around to finishing. This first chapter is short but I'd like to see if there's any interest in this Bonnie & Clyde sort of AU. Kudos and comments are much appreciated! My tumblr is shepsmodelships if you'd like to drop me a message over there (or a really bad pun, those are good too.)

_“It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing…”_  
  
Ivie Anderson’s voice pumped, as much as the 1930’s would allow, through the thick air of a musty old motel room somewhere just across Ohio’s border into Indiana. A pair of two-tone leather brogue clad feet, precariously settled atop the arm of an Art Deco styled couch, tapped the air in time with the musical crackle and buzz forcing its way out of the heart of an old radio at the far end of the room.     
  
“It don’t mean a thing, all you’ve got to do is sing! It makes no difference if it’s sweet or hot! Just keep that rhythm, give it everything you’ve got!” Another voice entered the cadence, albeit deeper and scratchier, alongside Ivie’s.     
  
“What, you fancy yourself a jazz singer now?” The deep and scratchy voice stopped instantly at the sudden intrusion.   Startled, the small body that had previously been sprawled out down the length of the couch shot up into a sitting position, tuning out the music to zero in on the voice that had just disrupted a rare moment of peace. Lithe fingers pulled back a black fedora to reveal a pair of brown eyes, focusing instantly on the other body that was now in the room.     
  
“Only when no one’s around…” A small smirk began to form on the lips that just moments before were treating the empty motel room to its own personal concert. “Jesus, Will, you scared the hell out of me.”   
  
  “Yeah, yeah, of course I did, Kitty. The person at the top of the nation’s Most Wanted list, scared by her own brother!” Will pulled a tattered and folded piece of white paper from his coat pocket while taking a few steps towards the couch, extending his arm towards the woman sitting there. “Here are the numbers you asked for from Lafontaine. There are some pretty high ones on there, Carmilla. You sure we’re prepared this time around?”    
  
“When have we not been prepared?” Carmilla snatched the paper away from Will and unfolded it, dark eyes scanning the page, trying to make sense of Lafontaine’s chicken scratch.    
  
“Well, last time was…we almost…” Will’s voice trailed off the beaten path of coherent speech and then stopped completely, cut off by Carmilla’s quick response.     
  
“We didn’t “almost” anything, little brother. We just had to…improvise a little.” Carmilla continued to scan the paper, her eyes widening with each passing number.  
  
  “I would hardly call kidnapping a few innocent women anything anything less than _a_ _little_ bold and _a little_ reckless.” Will crossed his arms across his chest and peered down at Carmilla, trying to gauge her reaction. He could almost see the dollar signs floating in the chocolate irises of her eyes.   
  
  “Bold, maybe, reckless, also maybe…fun, definitely yes.” Carmilla folded the paper back up and let it fall into her lap. “Besides, they were fine, a little smitten with us even. We dropped them off only a few miles outside of town.”  
  
  “Yeah, after using them as human body shields.” Will rolled his eyes. “So how much are we looking at here?”  
  
  “Well, little brother, it seems like we’ll be heading home with a bit more money than we originally thought,” Carmilla cracked her knuckles and looked up at Will with a cheeky grin plastered on her face, “a lot more, if you’re up for a few extra stop in Ohio.”    
  
“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?” Will arched an eyebrow and let his arms fall to his sides.   
  
  “Not really. No fear in “The Karnstein Brothers” if there’s only one of us.” Carmilla began humming along with the last few bars of the song that was still playing on the radio. Tipping her hat forward again, clapping her hands on her knees to the beat.     
  
“You sure you’re not thinking about hopping off to become a jazz singer?” Will grinned and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.     
  
Carmilla finally stood, brushing invisible dust from her trousers. She pulled back the black fedora from her head and ran a hand through her short, greased back, near black hair. Her left hand absentmindedly twirled the hat on the tips of her fingers. Fixing the tie beneath the grey vest perfectly fitted to her torso, she turned to Will.     
  
“No, I don’t think so. Robbing banks is a full time job.” Carmilla smiled and clapped her hand against Will’s shoulder. “Besides, I have to keep you lackwits out of jail.”    
  
“Lackwits?” Will’s shoulders slumped and her arched an eyebrow yet again.   
  
  “You heard me.” Carmilla placed her hat back on her head and leaned down to pick up the piece of paper that fell to the floor when she stood. She slid it into her vest pocket after folding it into a neat little rectangle. “Let’s go make some money.” 


	2. The Karnstein Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Laura will be making an appearance in the next chapter. I just needed to set this all up because it pertains to the main plot in a big way. There are probably dozens of misspellings and grammatical errors but I don't have the time to read back through it right now. 
> 
> Also, it's mentioned in this chapter, but please please please never bind with gauze or ace bandages. 
> 
> Have a good one, folks. Hope you enjoy.

_I’ve traveled in different countries, I’ve traveled in foreign lands_   
  
_I’ve found nobody to tell me…what is the soul of a man?_   
  
_I saw a crowd stand talking; I came up right on time_   
  
_Were hearing the lawyer and the doctor say, “a man ain’t nothing but his mind.”_   
  


* * *

  
A black 1934 Buick 50 barreled down an old dirt road in Geauga County, Ohio, leaving thick clouds of dust in its wake. The four occupants who were settled in the vehicle had left Indiana behind days ago, driving with renewed gusto through all the bullshit that Ohio always seemed to offer them. Four sacks of money sat in the trunk, ranging in size based on windows of opportunity and how many pigs with guns tried to nail those windows shut. They had had four hits, four fucking hits, and not a single miss in the past four days. A new bank every day and more money to count every night.     
  
Carmilla Karnstein sat at the wheel. Will Luce sat to her right, working fruitlessly on the Tommy Gun he had laid out across his lap. Carmilla raised her gaze from the road, peering into the rearview mirror to look at the two people sitting in the backseat.   Lafontaine was exactly what Carmilla expected a radio show mad scientist to look like, except instead of always carrying around an air of odd chemicals, they always smelled like gunpowder and lead. They certainly had the crazy hair thing down though; probably the same amount of hair missing from their eyebrows at all times as well.   They were busying themselves with the flask held tightly in their hand, bringing it up to their lips to take a long swig. While still sipping away at their whiskey, their gaze darted around the inside of the car, finally settling on Carmilla’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Their eyes locked and Lafontaine stopped drinking, the flask still pressed tightly up to their lips  
  
  “You got something to say, Karnstein?” Lafontaine’s agitated voice broke the silence, whiskey dribbling down their chin. After a few seconds Lafontaine broke eye contact first, like a damn submissive dog, twisting the cap back onto their flask and placing it back into the pocket they had sewn rather haphazardly to the inside of their black tweed coat themself.   
  
  Carmilla paid no mind to the question, directing her gaze now to Theo Straka. Straka had yet to prove himself. He was just a few cards short of a full deck to carry himself in a manner that instilled fear or dominance, but Carmilla and Will knew they needed at least one extra man for this round of heists. They were getting too popular to start getting messy and Straka was the only man available at the time, recommended by a confidant back in Boston. _Some fucking confidant_.  
  
  “Fuck!” All of a sudden Will shouted and pulled his hand away from the Tommy Gun like it was on fire, breaking Carmilla away from her thoughts. He raised his right hand and pressed his middle finger to his lips; sucking at the now pierced skin.     
  
“If that goes off in here I’m kickin’ you out of the fuckin’ car, Will.” Carmilla’s voice was huskier; a mask to hide the femininity that sometimes broke through in her natural pitch. She shifted her focus back on the barren road ahead of them.    
  
“Well, _Clyde_ , the spring is too tight and this fucker keeps locking up. What, do ya want me to get shot?” Will’s mumbled curses still bubbled to the surface, in no way soothing the ache that was now pulsing through his finger.   Carmilla grinned, pearly white teeth a stark contrast to the dirt and grime painted across her face after days of travel, at the way Will always put some extra emphasis on Clyde. It was like the most foreign thing in the world to him whenever it came flying out of his mouth even though she had been going by that name to the public since their first heist nearly seven years ago.   
  
Carmilla had always figured it would be easier to rob banks if she looked the part of the classic gruff gangster she had been accustomed to since she was young. Now she masqueraded around as one of the toughest men in the country. She’d say she was probably the toughest woman in the country as well, second only to her sister Matska and a fiery brunette she left back in Boston near eight years ago.   She had even gone as far to have Will shear off her once long, curly locks when she was seventeen. Being a badass female gangster was too high profile. Besides, The _Karnstein Brother and Sister_ didn’t seem like it would turn as many heads as _The Karnstein Brothers_ always seemed to.   
  
  “Clyde, where we headin’ now?” Theo spoke up but kept staring out the passenger window, a little too enthralled by the constant change of scenery. Really, there was just so much dirt to see and he didn’t want to miss a single second of it. Lafontaine turned their head and looked at the idiot sitting beside them, rolling their eyes after letting out an annoyed sigh. It was like the kid had never been in a damn car before.     
  
“We’re headin’ for Chardon but we’re makin’ a stop near Swine Creek first.” Still focusing on keeping her voice deep, Carmilla responded before she pulled out a Lucky Strike that had been nestled behind her ear and placed it between her lips. In a rapid burst of movement she hit Will on the shoulder, silently asking for a light.   
  
  “Ow, you dick!” Will rubbed his shoulder and scowled but began searching through his pockets for a lighter anyway.  
  
  “What’s in Swine Creek?” Theo spoke up again, eyes still trained out the window.   
  
  “Didn’t we go over this already with you?” Lafontaine had reached their boiling point, which never really took too long, and finally snapped at Straka. “We’re stopping off at Swine Creek to meet up with Kirsch’s contact!”  
  
  “Oh, right, we’re going to look at the new cars.” Theo seemed proud of his realization; the gears grinding in his head could be heard for miles.     
  
“Jesus Christ!” Lafontaine’s face was turning red from holding back on shooting the man sitting next to them. “Why the hell are we workin’ with him again?” They aimed the question in Carmilla’s direction as they pulled the flask back out from their coat pocket.     
  
“Will you two toddlers calm down a bit?” Carmilla rolled her eyes and looked at Will, wondering why it was taking him so long to find a damn lighter. “We’re gonna need a faster getaway car if we wanna get out of Chardon with our skin still on our bones. ‘Sides, I’m not headin’ back to Boston in this piece of shit.”    
  
“Right, because _Clyde Karnstein_ is just _so fuckin’ classy_.” Will finally pulled out and old scuffed Zippo lighter from one of his pockets and leaned over to light Carmilla’s cigarette. “There, happy?”  
  
  “I’ll be happy once I’m sitting in a new car with another sixty-thousand in the trunk..” Carmilla grinned, letting out a puff of smoke that filled the small space within seconds.    
  


* * *

  
 Swine Creek was a dainty little place in its own right, despite having the word “swine” in its name. It was mainly just a large forest with a few shabby houses scattered throughout the landscape. They were far enough away from any real semblance of society to rouse any suspicions; “see no evil, hear no evil.”    
  
Carmilla pulled the Buick up a long dirt driveway that led to a small house on a decent amount of land, the tires making the earth under the pressure of the heavy vehicle cry out for mercy. A short, balding man came out from the back of the house. He was dressed to the blue-collar-nines in a pair of greased up overalls and ratty old work boots. Once he saw the car he moved his hand with as much stealth as he could muster to the deep pocket of his overalls.     
  
“He’s wearin' iron.” Will motioned towards the man by nodding his head in his direction, casting a quick sideways glance to Carmilla.     
  
“Really? I thought he was just gonna pull out a pad and pen and take our fuckin’ drink order.” Carmilla looked at Will as he scoffed and rolled her eyes. She turned her attention back towards the man, whose hand kept getting closer to his pocket with each passing second. “You wanna see how good this chump’s aim is?”  
  
  “Just honk the fuckin’ horn! Jesus!” Will went to reach over to honk the horn himself, only to have his hand batted away by Carmilla. “We’ve run through fuckin’ hurricanes of bullets and I’m not lookin' to die here in the middle of Bumfuck, Ohio at the hands of this old fuck!”  
  
  “Alright, alright…what’d you tear your pantyhose this mornin' or somethin’? Fuckin' relax, little brother.” Carmilla reached down and honked the horn three times in rapid succession, causing the man’s hand to drop. A small smile broke out on his face and he waved them forward.     
  
“This place is a fuckin’ dump.” Will looked at the house as they drove closer. Old paint was chipping off every visible surface and there was an auto-fair explosion’s worth of car parts strewn about the unkempt lawn.     
  
“So are you but you don't see any of us complainin’, do ya?” Carmilla grunted and put the car in park, throwing the door open in a haste to get out of the humid environment she had been trapped in for the past few hours. The fresh air immediately dispersed throughout the cramped space, chasing away the stench of alcohol, sweat, and old cigarettes. She stepped out of the vehicle, stretching her legs in a attempt to rid her muscles of the dull ache they had fallen victim to during the long drive. The other three quickly followed suit.     
  
“Laf, Straka, you two take care of the dough in the trunk. Will and I can handle this.” With that, Carmilla started walking up the rest of the driveway, Will following closely behind.  
  
  Laf huffed and looked to Theo over the top of the car, challenging him to speak.     
  
“You heard him, fuckin’ take care of it, Straka.”   
  
Lafonatine closed the door they had left open with a little more force than necessary and pulled out their trusty flask. They leaned back against the side of the car and tore at the cap, twisting and turning until it finally broke free.   
  
  “…you drunk fuck.” Theo mumbled under his breath and slammed his door shut.   
  
  “What’d you say?” Laf turned their head and narrowed their eyes at Theo who had walked to the trunk of the car to retrieve the bags.     
  
“I said, “what dumb luck”, Susan. Can’t ya hear?” After popping open the small trunk, Theo looked back to Laf.   
  
  “Call me Susan one more time and I’ll cut your fuckin' tongue out,” Lad paused to take a generous swing from their flask, “ya hear?”  
  
  Theo waved them off and looked down at the bags in the trunk. His palm began to sweat as he reached for one.   
  


* * *

  
  “…85 horsepower pumping through a Ford flathead V8 engine. She’ll top off at about 106.” The balding man, the name Dennis written on the left breast pocket of his overalls in blotchy black ink, pulled back the white sheet covering the beauty he was describing. “Well here she is, the Ford Model 40 Deluxe; in black with a hardtop just like you boys asked for. “The other one is right over there.”   Dennis pointed in the direction of the other car, still covered in its own white sheet at the other end of the garage.  
  
  “Fuckin' hell.” Carmilla ran her fingertips down the length of the hood, a low growl clawing its way out of her throat. To say that fast, sexy cars were a turn-on for Carmilla Karnstein would be a gross understatement. They were fucking sex on wheels. Before the small spark flickering in her belly could turn to a wildfire she cleared her throat and stopped right in front of Dennis, staring the lanky man down.   
  
  “Say, how much is this all going to cost us,” Carmilla paused and reached out to pull at the fabric of Dennis’s overalls to read the name marked there, “Dennis?”  
  
  “Well, straight off the production line would put you back about six-hundred dollars each, but with all the modifications…we’re talkin' more around seven-hundred and fifty each.” Dennis caught Carmilla’s gaze, instantly falling into a state of uneasiness. Carmilla smirked once she caught the slight shift of discomfort in Dennis’s eyes and she looked to her brother, who was too busy looking at the interior of the car to notice the exchange.     
  
“Now, I’m not too sure we’re gonna be able to swing that. I don’t know about you, Will, but that number seems just a tad too high for me.” The deep husk of Clyde’s voice was dripping from Carmilla’s words, causing Will to smirk and take a few slow steps towards Dennis.  What happened next was too quick for anyone to really comprehend but it ended with Dennis’s torso pressed flush against the hood of the vehicle. One of Will’s hands had ended up on the back of the balding man’s head, grasping with just enough force to keep his face pressed against the shiny black metal. Dennis was left with no room for escape.     
  
“What the fu-…” Dennis reached down to his pocket to retrieve the revolver he always kept with him.     
  
 _Click_.     
  
“What, ya think we didn't notice you were packin’ heat?” Don't be stupid, Dennis.” Will pressed the revolver that he had snagged from Dennis’s pocket during the scuffle against its owner’s own temple.     
  
Carmilla waited a few moments, picking at her fingers, to let the realization of what was about to happen marinate in Dennis’s mind. A loud crack of thunder rumbled in the distance and Carmilla perked her head up to look out the door that had been left open. It was going to rain and Carmilla despised the rain for two reasons: one, it made her hands ache, and two, it made skipping town quick and undetected all the more hazardous. She sighed and flexed her hands, casting a quick glance to her little brother before focusing back on the pathetic heap of shaking flesh Will still had pressed against the car.   
  
  “I’m goin' to say this in the most basic way I can, Dennis.” Carmilla walked around to the front of the Ford and bent down to lean against it, crossing her forearms and resting her head upon them. She was now eye-level with the man who put in all the work but was about to reap none of the reward. “These cars belong to us, no charge. Now, this can play out one of two ways: one, we can just drive off without you makin' a fuss, or two, you force us to make an awful mess of this nice garage you’ve got here.”  Carmilla reached down to the right side pocket of her trousers and pulled out a switchblade. She flipped it open in one fluid motion and paused to watch it glisten in the flickering beams of light coming from the cheap bulb hanging from the ceiling.   “And by an awful mess, Dennis, I mean an _awful mess_.” Carmilla smirked, nearly bearing her teeth as she let out a small laugh. She reached out to Dennis, the blade guiding her hand through the small space between them, and he flinched.    
  
“No, no…I-,” Dennis blinked, the sweat from his furrowed brow cascading down his worn skin to sting his eyes. His old bones couldn't fight back and his tired mouth couldn't properly argue, so he began kissing ass. “It would be an honor to have you gentlemen take these here cars. No charge at all, not even a penny. I don't need no money anyway…speaking of money, you boys sure got some finely tailored suits. You must be loaded to afford to be wearin' that kind of high-class fabric there. The ladies must love ya too!”    
  
Will’s face broke out into a wide smile as he tried to suppress the laughter bubbling up from deep within his gut. He turned to look at his sister, seeing that she was in a similar state. They had seen a lot of people beg for their lives in a lot of different ways over the years but they had never come across someone so scared that they started spewing out compliments.   
  
  “Well, that’s very kind of ya, Dennis. Buttering me up will only get you so far through.” Carmilla closed the switchblade and placed it back in her pocket. She turned on her heel to look around the garage, her gaze settling on a row of wooden support beams. “Tie him up, will ya, little brother? We’ve got shit to do.”    
  


* * *

  
Two brand-spanking new Fords headed into Chardon. The classic, subtle roar of the V8 engines catching the attention of a few locals who were out and about, going through the motions of their normal, boring lives. There was something about Ohio that always had Carmilla biting back a yawn. Trying to describe it to someone who had never been was like trying to read a Hemingway novel from cover to cover without passing out. O-freaking-hio just wasn't worth her time; O-freaking-hio’s money on the other had was definitely worth her time.   
  
  “Ya want to explain to me again why ya won't let me drive?” Will was seated in the passenger’s seat as still as a statue. He was either just as bored of Ohio as Carmilla was or he was just thinking a little too hard.   
  
  “I’m not lettin' ya drive because the last time I did ya nearly flipped the fuckin' thing.” Carmilla tightened her grip on the steering wheel and let a heavy breath out through her clenched teeth. She could have sworn Will had asked her that same question five minutes ago, and five minutes _before that_ , and then  _even possibly five minutes before that._

“I was just gettin' used to it!”    
  
“It was like you’d newer driven a fuckin' car before, Will!”     
  
Carmilla ignored her little brother’s incoherent mumbling and focused on the road. Besides the game of _Twenty of the Same Question_ she’d been playing with her brother since they had left Swine Creek, she felt good. They had stopped off at a safe house just outside of Chardon to get all the details ironed out and grab a quick bite to eat, among other things. There were numerous safe houses spread throughout each state they had ventured to. Whether they staked claims on those safe houses by use of choking out a bit of fear from their residents or through a few friends in low places was hard to keep track of. They had all figured, besides Straka and his ever depleting common sense, that this bank would be different. The vault would take the bank teller at least a full extra minute to get open and when you’re in the business of robbing banks, a minute was a hell of a wait.     
  


* * *

  
_“He gonna be done soon? It’s startin' to sound like a fuckin' brothel in here!” Lafontaine huffed and puffed and nearly blew the whole damn house down. They probably would have too if it wasn't for their mouth being otherwise occupied by the outstanding amount of food the lady of the house was kind enough to supply them with._  
  
 _“Yeah, yeah, don't blow your wig, Laf.” Will stopped sifting through the papers strewn about the table to look up at them. “Just give ‘em a minute.”_  
  
 _A heavy thud echoed throughout the small kitchen, followed by a rather loud moan. Will, Laf, and Theo all turned their heads to look at the door on the far end of the room that had begun to rattle in its frame. While Laf went back to stuffing their face, and Theo went back to whatever the hell it was that Theo had been doing, Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Carmilla and Will had never and would never talk about anything even closely related to sex, mainly because the fact that his sister now had a married woman pinned up against a door was just too fucked up to talk about out loud. He turned back to the papers in front of him and tried to drown out the sound of wood scraping against wood and body pounding against body._  
  
 _“Does he always do this?” Theo looked to Laf for an answer._  
  
 _“Ya couldn't keep Casanova in there away from the ladies even if ya tried.” Laf began laughing, nearly cooking in the process. They pounded at their chest to try and fight off the coughing fit they knew was coming._  
  
 _“Alright, alright, let’s cut the fuckin' chit-chat and get back to business.” Will interrupted, completely obliterating any chance Laf had to continue speaking. “Let me go over what Clyde has written here with ya one more time.” He paused to hold up a couple pieces of paper. “We don't need you two twits gumming’ up the works on us when we're so close to gettin’ back home.”_  
  
 _Just as the younger Karnstein was about to go back over the complications that came with the new vault Chardon had recently installed in their main bank, the door on the far side of the kitchen opened up. Carmilla walked out looking as clean and put together as ever with a short, disheveled blonde woman at her side. Laf looked up and began running their mouth again, bits and pieces of food falling from their mouth to the table._  
  
 _“Ha! Looks like she didn't even touch ya, Clyde!” Laf knew full well that Carmilla rarely let anyone touch her in any way; it had been that way ever since they were children. They had only seen her let one person, besides her brother, past the high walls she had built around herself. It hadn't gone well._  
  
 _“Yeah, what'd ya have to slip her a Mickey to get her in there?” Theo spoke up, laughing at his own joke with a sneer. Laf and Will shot him a glare._  
  
 _“Go get yourself cleaned up, huh?” Carmilla looked to the woman beside her, her voice a raspy whisper against the silence that had overtaken the room. “Us boys gotta talk business for a bit.”_  
  
 _The woman scampered off to another part of the house and Carmilla watched her closely as she went. Get fucked but don't touch; it was a game she had played with this woman, as well as various others, numerous times before. It was a way to keep up the act and a way to justify to herself the giant, always looming lie she had stitched to her heels years ago. It had always been that way but lately the thick line she had drawn between fantasy and reality had faded and the two sides started to blur. Clyde Karnstein had always bedded women for the hell of it, he had the confidence and the swagger. He didn't have a past he was running from. Carmilla Karnstein had recently started fucking women for the comfort and safety of it all. She never let herself think about it long enough to dissect it and if she were to be honest with herself she didn't know if she ever wanted to figure out what it all really meant. She put it out of her mind as she walked over to where her makeshift crew was sitting, with a little extra bounce in her step and sat down to focus on work._  
  
 _“Ya wanna keep laughin’ at me or do ya wanna get this figured out so we don't all end up in the hoosegow?” Carmilla stared at Theo long enough to shut up his snickering._  
  
 _“It ain't like we wouldn't just break out like all the other fuckin' times though, Clyde.” Laf leaned back in their chair, the old wood moaning against the pressure._  
  
 _“Seeing as you ain't the one always thinking up those elaborate plans to break us out…I don't think ya got much room to talk, Laf.” Will finally spoke from across the table and tossed the small pile of papers in his hand over to Carmilla. “You explain it to ‘em, I’m done tryin’."_  
  
 _“Alright, long story short, some fuckin’ mayor thought it’d be a grand idea to up the ante security-wise to try and keep folks like us from stealing money from the good people of Chardon. Extra dual combination locks means that we've gotta keep the pigs at bay for a little bit longer than usual.” Carmilla didn't even bother looking down at the papers Will had tossed her way. She had already been over the information she had wrote down at least a dozen times. “The PD is all the way across town so that oughta buy us some time before we find ourselves on the bad end of a full-out, old-fashioned shootout.”_  
  
 _“Who's on watch?” Laf had a sinking feeling that it was going to be them yet again but they asked anyway._  
  
 _“You are. Will and Straka are inside with me.” Carmilla reached over to Laf’s not-so-secret hidden pocket where they kept their flask and pulled it out, tossing it onto the table. “Ya ain’t drinking before this one neither, buddy. I don't need ya yellin’ out that there’s only 6 coppers when there’s really a baker’s-damn-dozen.”_  
  
 _“Six pigs, a dozen pigs, it’s all the same!” Laf rolled their eyes and did their best impression of Billy the Kid, shooting a few imaginary bullet Will’s way, sound effects included. “Just throw some slop their way and they're happy as fuckin' clams!”_  
  
 _“Yeah and I’m gonna make sure that you’re the slop if ya fuck this one up for us. One more go and then we’re back home awhile. Hold off on the hooch ’til we’re out of Chardon, will ya?” Carmilla leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, clearly unimpressed by the self-proclaimed comedian sitting next to her._  
  
 _The sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor in the other room caused Carmilla to stand rather abruptly. The lady of the house reemerged wearing a clean dress with her hair no longer mussed and lipstick no longer smeared. She walked towards the table with purpose._  
  
 _“We're headin' out, Elle.” Carmilla picked up her coat that she had placed on the back of one of the old kitchen chairs when they had arrived, before she became otherwise occupied, and flung it over her shoulder so that it was precariously dangling from the middle finger of her right hand. “Burn them papers there, will ya?”_  
  
 _Laf and Theo stood and headed out the doorway from the kitchen out to the little stone driveway that ran alongside the house, thanking Elle for her hospitality as they went. Will waited behind for Carmilla, mainly just in case Elle’s husband Henry decided to barge in through the front door unexpectedly. He went about straightening his coat and hat along with buttoning the buttons of his vest back up._  
  
 _“Ya fixin' to take me with you this time, Clyde?” Elle stepped closer to Carmilla and reached out to straighten her vest. As her hands climbed higher and higher up the fabric covering the wayward gangster’s chest, Carmilla’s breath hitched. She reached out to wrap her fingers well enough around both of Elle’s wrists to stop her from discovering skin that felt an awful lot like tightly wound gauze. Get fucked, but don't touch._  
  
 _“I can’t, doll, you know that. The kind of business we've got ourselves buried in ain't no place for a lady.” Carmilla ducked her head to brush her lips across Elle’s knuckles, trying to cover up the snort of laughter that Will hadn't managed to keep in. It seemed to work since Elle now had a wed me, bed me, and grow old with me sort of look written all over her face.   With that, Carmilla turned on her heels and crossed the kitchen floor with heavy steps. She glared at Will before walking out the open door._  
  
 _“Ma’am.” Will tilted his hat towards Elle. “Thank you.” He then turned to follow his sister back to their already running vehicles, closing the door on his way out._  
  
 _Once everyone was settled back into their respective means of transportation Carmilla turned to Will and whacked him hard on the shoulder._  
  
 _“Ow! Do ya wanna maybe not?” Will rubbed his shoulder, earning an eye roll from Carmilla. “I’m sorry. It was funny.”_  
  
 _“Yeah, real fuckin' hilarious.” Carmilla couldn't help but grin as she started backing out of the small driveway before finally reaching the main road. She slowed momentarily though upon seeing a dull yellow Plymouth parked at the front of the house._  
  
 _“Henry.”Carmilla laughed and pressed the accelerator all the way to the floor, taking off like a shot down the dirty dirt road. The roar of the engine dulled the predatory rage that was bubbling up from her gut but it wasn't completely satisfying, so she flung her arm out the open window and gave Henry a half-hearted wave._  
  
 _“You’re a damn home wrecker!” Will turned in his seat to look back at the confused look on Elle’s husband's face. He couldn't help but laugh._  
  
 _“He ain't ever gonna know!”_   
  


* * *

  
“That it?” Will pointed to a rather large building down at the end of the block. It was an off-white aesthetic disaster. Stone pillars stood tall in front of the clean outer walls, holding up the lip of the roof as it hung out over the sidewalk.  
  
  “Well if they were goin' for that gaudy Roman look they fuckin’ got it.” Carmilla pulled up next to the curb and looked into the rearview mirror to make sure Laf hadn't gotten themselves lost. They were there alright, pulling up onto the sidewalk in all of their glory, nearly taking out a man who was minding his own business with his nose buried in a newspaper.   “Really?”  
  
Carmilla turned in her seat to look out the back windshield just in time to see Laf backing off the sidewalk, parked cockeyed nearly halfway in the middle of the damn street.     
  
“Well…we're off to a good start.” Will turned to look at Carmilla who was already staring at him with an exasperated look on her face. “What? I ain't the one who nearly imploded at the thought of Straka drivin’."    
  
“He doesn't know shit from Shinola! We'd be waitin' here in Chardon while he’s drivin' off to the middle of fuckin’ Utah rubbin’ one out. At least I know Laf’ll keep up and get where we need to go, even if their swervin' all over the damn place.” Carmilla shut off the car but left the keys hanging in the ignition.   
  
  Once they were all out of their cars, the skies opened up with the sole purpose of making a downright mess of everything. To be fair, the storm had been brewing in God’s gut nearly the entire morning so to assume that the Big Man would cut them some slack was pushing it just a bit. It’s not like they really needed any though; when you’ve got a semi-automatic Chicago Typewriter in your hands you cut your own slack, God and his rain be damned.   
  
  So there they were, standing on the sidewalk outside of a bank in Ohio, all sewn together with the finest purloined thread into the perfect picture of an all-American catastrophe. The fact that they were all damned to walk down this path before each of them had turned the ages of _seven, nine, twelve, and fourteen_ due to various traumatic events that had torn their childhoods right out from under them didn't matter in the slightest. At least not now, not now when they were only a few steps away from feeling like kings. Not when they were a few steps away from feeling like the cat’s _fucking_ meow. Not now when they were a few steps away from feeling in control of damn near everything for once in their lives. For the next few minutes it was all aces.     
  
Four men, give or take, dressed to kill in all black. Nothing out of the ordinary about that, right?    
  
Carmilla turned to look at her brother, a cigarette that had been put out by the relentless rain nearly the second she lit it still clinging to her lips, and smirked. Will gave a quick nod and looked to Laf, who had situated themselves next to one of the giant stone pillars. The siblings both turned to look at the two front doors, each of them kicking one open in a synchronized motion that had been perfected over the years. The cheap, faux gold doors rattled in their frames as they stepped through, Theo following closely behind.   
  
  It was silent chaos. The bank's loyal patrons turning towards the noise that had disrupted their quiet afternoon of making withdrawals and deposits. Well, it was quiet until Carmilla and Will pulled their gats from the insides of their coats and raised them towards the ceiling, setting off a few warning shots to leave no room for interpretation of the situation. _Yes, we’re The Karnstein Brothers, and yes, you're completely fucked_.     
  
“Listen up!” Carmilla’s voice bounced off the high ceiling and shot straight into the ear of her fear-stricken audience. She ran over to the main counter, located at the center of the facility, and leaped on top of it. It was showtime. “We're The Karnstein Brothers and we're here to make a withdrawal!” 


End file.
